


Ask Me No Questions

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-09
Updated: 2008-01-09
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Some questions can leave a mother at a loss for an answer, and eventually, the strategy of evasion isn't quite good enough.





	Ask Me No Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_****_“Mum, why don’t you and Dad ever change your colours?”

You look up from the kitchen counter, where you’re preparing a large turkey to put into the oven. She sits on a tall stool, kicking one leg out. Her hair is passing through the colours of the rainbow as quick as a heartbeat, but her eyes are focused on you, as though expecting you to join her.

“Because we can’t, Nymphadora.” You give her a warm smile. “Not everyone has a gift like that.”

Abruptly the pulsing colours stop on a bright indigo and your daughter fixes you with an inquisitive stare. “No one else can do it?”

You chuckle. “Well, some people can, but not very many. It’s rare.”

Slight worry finds its way onto her face, and you think with a pang that a four-year-old’s expression should never look like that. “I’m not like everyone else?”

“You’re _special_ , darling.” Nymphadora looks unconvinced, but you glide across the kitchen and crouch in front of her to meet her eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you, Nymphadora. You have a gift and that makes you wonderful.” When she shows no sign of relief, you give up and use your secret weapon – her ridiculously ticklish spots on either side of her neck.

Nymphadora squirms and giggles, and you relentlessly tickle her for a few minutes before turning back to the turkey – you’ve _got_ to get this meal finished by tonight, Ted’s parents _and_ Sirius _and_ his friend Remus and James and Lily are coming for Christmas dinner.

“No-one will think I’m strange?”

You don’t turn around, but your back straightens again as you remember St. Mungo’s the day after Nymphadora was born. Extra forms. Registrations. Lists. Brochures. Worst of all, the looks, the little clicking noises the nurse made with her mouth. She didn’t have to say it, you knew what she was thinking — _unnatural._ Even in a world where magic is a given, being _different_ isn’t acceptable.

But you can’t tell her that.

Finally, you look over your shoulder at your daughter, smiling brightly and thanking Merlin that a four-year-old can’t yet tell when it’s fake.

“Of course not, darling.”


End file.
